Sprinklers

Conrad stopped in his tracks, tiny pieces of dirt from the alley he was cutting through crept into his shoes. Annoyed by the intruders, he flung off his shoes and began to run across the lava-like ground. The reason for the sudden stop was the big dog that was trying to jump the fence to confront him in the alley. Though the dog didn’t succeed, he wasn’t gonna stick around until he did.

Forgetting about his shoes, they were old and worn anyway, the little lad ran for refuge from the scorching fire beneath his feet. Even though he hates wearing socks, he wishes he had something between his tender feet skin and the sun baked pavement.

A sprinkler in a neighbor’s yard caught the eye of the panicked boy. He jumped and with a splash his feet melted into the cool water that had pooled in the freshly cut grass. Grass that was cut by his older brother, the previous owner of the shoes that he ditched a few minutes ago in the alley.

The man of the house that Conrad now stands on the lawn of, passed a few months ago and Conrad’s brother won the bid for the summer work. He’s saving for a new bike, the kind with the long banana seat and high handle bars.

Before Mrs. Greenberg yells from her front window to get out of her yard, she fears that little feet will crush her newly planted flowers, Conrad searches quickly for more sprinklers on his path to Sean’s house. With no luck of finding more sprinklers running, Conrad had to settle for the shade of parked cars and street lined trees to comfort his feet.

Sean’s mom answers the door, “Sean is in his room.” As she leaves the door open for Conrad to come in, she turns back, “Why are your feet so filthy and where are your shoes?”. “I don’t know, I’ll wait for him out here”. As Conrad waits on the porch, he see a snail making its way across the walk path. He picks it up to examine the fragile shell that it had shrunk into. You’d shrink into your shell too if a giant snatched you from the earth and stared at you with its big brown eyeball.

While trying to talk the little creature out of its home, Sean comes running out the door. He can’t wait to see Conrad’s new swing set! Finally Conrad’s dad put it together after work the other day, plus his own swing set fell apart last summer.

Conrad tosses the scared snail into the grass and sprints to catch up with his best friend. The two start walking and with their hearts beating fast, they both begin to sweat. After all, it is three in the afternoon in the middle of July.

Sean stops as Conrad runs to the refuge that earlier brought relief to his burning feet. Sean, still sweating, quickly joins him in the oasis of the sprinkler.

As the two play and laugh in the cool water, their clothing clings to their skin like plastic wrap clings to the bowl of mom’s fruit salad. Sean’s glasses look like they did the other night when he forgot to take them off before he got into the shower. They don’t care, you only live once.

Mrs. Greenberg hears the voices of the carefree children and hurries to the front window. As she fills her lungs with air to power the words that will drive the kids from her yard, she pauses.

Through the eyes of an old lady that once was young, though long ago, memories of her playing in sprinklers came flooding back. She thought of her childhood companions and if they were even still alive.

Mrs. Greenberg thought to herself, “What’s more beautiful, cheap flowers that will grow back next year or little boys laughing in the golden sparkles of my sprinkler”. Chances are, the boys will be too old next year to play in sprinklers and Mrs. Greenberg will be too old to care if she hasn’t already joined her husband in a different yard.

The little girl, staring through the eyes of an old lady, smiles as she watches the two friends play in her sprinkler without a care in the world.

A week went by and Conrad found himself mowing Mrs. Greenberg’s lawn. His brother bought a skateboard instead of the banana seat bike and gave Conrad the yard gig.

It was particularly hot that day, so Mrs. Greenberg brought Conrad an ice cold bottle of Perky Pop. She kept some around because it was her husbands favorite beverage.

Before long, Conrad and Mrs. Greenberg were having rummy duals on the card table in Mrs. Greenberg’s living room. The T.V. was always on and they would both stop to watch the Perky Pop Cola commercials. Though Mrs. Greenberg didn’t drink soda, it made her belly ache, she found great entertainment in their television ads, which prompted Conrad to hop to the fridge and grab a cold one.

The years went by, Conrad and Sean were about to graduate from high school. Sean would get his degree in finance and follow in his father’s footsteps as a broker while Conrad would most likely follow his in the grocery business. He wanted to get into advertising, but college tuition took a back seat to having food on the table.

After walking the stage at his high school graduation, Conrad thought of Mrs. Greenberg watching the Perky Pop commercials all alone. He skipped the grad parties and went directly to her house, cap and gown, to play some rummy. As he was leaving, Mrs. Greenberg said, “wait a minute, I have something for you.” She went into the spare room and brought out a shoebox with, “Conrad’s Grad Gift” written on it. She made sure to tell him that she knows what is in it and he can do whatever he likes with the contents.

Conrad got home and peeked into the box. Some old comics, Mr. Greenberg’s stamp collection and a small bag of wheat pennies. At the bottom of the shoebox was a little black book with some poems written in it. One particular caught his eye.

"Where Roses Grew

She walked where roses grew

Talked as though she knew

Maybe knew too well

That one day they’d be gone

And as the petals fell

Her beauty carries on"

It made him think of Mrs. Greenberg walking through her garden.

Between the pages of the little black book were several stock certificates. What do you know, Perky Pop Soda Company!

Monday came and Conrad went to pay a visit to Sean’s dad, the broker. After a quick search on his new computing system, it turns out those ten little certificates were worth about two-thousand dollars a piece! Oh the commercials he’ll produce to make Mrs. Greenberg smile. Smile from her living room card table or from above.